𝑅𝐸𝑀𝐸𝑀𝐵𝐸𝑅 𝑀𝐸 | druig

𝓉𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓋𝑒

As Nita made her way down to the village, her hand still clutching her sore rib, she noticed a few of the villagers coming out of their huts, some with expressions of confusion as they knew they should've been up by now. She felt a few of their stares as she passed but she kept her eyes fixed on the ground before her, ignoring them.

By the time she made it to her hut, she found her father sitting on the steps, his head in his lap. At the sound of her scuffling feet, his head rose and when he saw the bandage on her head and her hand on her rib, he jumped up to her with nothing but worry over his face.

"What happened, mi hija?" He asked in panic, clasping both his large hands on her shoulders.

The switch turned back on as she completely lost herself at her fathers touch. Everything rushed back into her like being hit by a truck. Andres was dead. She had almost died. Nothing but danger and possibly more death was headed her way. Nita tried holding herself together for as long as she could but all it took was the soft, comforting gaze of her father to break the dam that was holding her tears and emotions back.

Nita ignored the pain as she fell into her fathers arms, one of his arms encircling her rib cage.

"Alejandro?" Her mothers voice chirped from inside the hut. "Where did you go..." her voice trailed off as she stepped outside and saw her eldest sobbing in the arms of her husband. "Oh, Benita," she said under her breath, her words full of heartbreak as she rushed down the steps and hugged her daughter from behind.

"An-Andres... he's–" Nita kept choking on her words. "He's dead." Her parents hugged her tighter at her words as they didn't have anything to say themselves.

"Come inside, Mi amor," her mother whispered. Nita's parents flanked her on both sides, her mother with an arm around her waist and her father with an arm around her shoulders.

Inside, they sat Nita down on her cot, her sister sitting up in hers rubbing her tired eyes. "What's going on?" Evita asked, her voice still rough from sleep. Nita just laid down, curling herself up in a ball and facing the wall as she continued to sob. She was exhausted and that didn't help her current state, it only amplified her emotions.

"Evita, go to our bed. Give your sister some space," her mother said as she came to Nita's side with a cup of tea, placing it on the small table beside her cot.

Her father pulled up a chair from the main room and sat before Nita, elbows resting on his knees with his hands clasped. He watched his daughter with furrowed eyebrows. Nita's father was never really the parent who offered words of comfort when his daughters were in states of unease as Nita was now, but he tried his best and that usually meant just sitting with them without saying a word until they stopped crying and began to feel better. Nita's mother was better at these sorts of things; she brought them tea, wrapped them in a blanket, and rubbed their backs–sometimes she'd even sing them quiet songs in her native tongue to lull them into a peaceful sleep.

Nita's shoulders gently shook as she laid with her back to her parents who were exchanging looks of worry.

"Are you hurt, Benita?" Her father asked quietly. Nita shook her head even though it was evident that she was. But it was also evident that someone aided her with dressing her wounds.

"What do you need, mi amor?" Her mother asked, sitting on the edge of her cot rubbing gentle, soothing circles on her back.

"Sleep," Nita said under her breath, her eyes closed as the tears continued to stain her cheeks and bedsheets.

Her mother nodded. "Okay. Take as long as you need. I'll come back and check on you in an hour, okay?" She said. Nita nodded once and then felt the weight of her mother lift from the cot and the sounds of the floorboards creaking as her parents left the small room.